Learn to Forgive
by Celebrindal
Summary: Five years after the Scouring of the Shire, Rosie must learn to forgive those who tormented her previous to the event. Chapter one up, no slash. Angsty in later chapters. Please R/R!


Learn to Forgive  
  
By: Celebrindal  
  
A/N: This is three years after Frodo left in 1421, so it's 1424 and Sam now has two children. Since Elanor is only three, she talks like a three year old.  
  
"G'bye, Rosie," Sam called as he strode to the door, pulling his gardening gloves on and picking up his trowel and watering can. "See you later in the morning after I do all my gardening stops."  
  
Rose smiled and shook her head. She stood on tiptoe and kissed Sam on the cheek. "Sam, why do you still do other peoples' gardens when you don't have to?" she asked. "When you know you can just do our own and we'll have enough money to live on?"  
  
"Because I love gardening, Rose," he said, leaning down and kissing his wife quickly. "When I finish our gardening, I have to have others to do." He smiled bashfully and picked up a potted purple flower.  
  
"Bye, Sam," Rosie said as Sam walked down the path, humming as he did so.  
  
"Goodbye, Rose," he shouted back.  
  
Rose turned and closed the green door quietly so she wouldn't wake one-year- old Frodo Gamgee. As she yawned silently, she heard the squall that told her that her precautions hadn't worked. "One moment, Frodo dear," she murmured, bustling down to her small son's bedroom.  
  
She opened to door to the darkened room, closing it quickly behind her so Elanor wouldn't wake up as well. Frodo quieted, looking up at Rosie with her own dark brown eyes. Frodo's were darker though, and had more of a black quality. He had brown hair that was the same hue as Sam's. He smiled, raising his little arms so his mother would lift him from the crib. He smiled, revealing two small front teeth.  
  
She lifted him out and changed his diaper quickly, reminding herself to clean the cloth diaper hurriedly after breakfast. She tossed it into a tub of water kept ready for this use and walked into the kitchen with Frodo on her hip.  
  
To her surprise, three-year-old Elanor was sitting at the table on top of the large book Sam had placed on it. Her small blond curls were tangled and knotted and her large blue eyes shone happily as she swung her legs. Her flannel nightgown had milk all down it and Rosie saw a large puddle of milk under the table. Elanor waved the empty bottle. "Mummy, I spilled the milk."  
  
Rosie nodded and put Frodo in his highchair, his furry feet poking out of the holes in the bottom. He smiled and clapped.  
  
After Rosie had mopped up the sill and wiped down the table, it had already been half an hour since Sam had left. She helped Elanor into a clean maroon dress and then began making pancakes over the fire. As she flipped it, Elanor complained loudly, "Mummy, Fwodo woke me up!"  
  
"Yes, sometimes he wakes your father and I up as well," Rosie said impatiently, putting the pancake on a plate and cutting it into very small pieces that Frodo could eat with his fingers.  
  
"But he was weally loud this mowning and I'm still weally tiwed!" She rubbed her closed eye for emphasis. "I'm not going to fowgive him for this!" She stuck her tongue out at her giggling brother.  
  
Rosie sighed and told her daughter, "Elli, you always need to forgive people. What if you never talked to Frodo again just because he woke you up once when he was too little not to? Wouldn't that be sad?"  
  
Elli thought for a moment, her face puckered in thought. "Yes, that would be vewy sad," she finally agreed. Then she turned to her baby brother. "I fowgive you, Fwodo."  
  
Frodo blew a raspberry happily, throwing bits of pancake across the room with his little hands. "Fwodo! Don't thwow youw panckake!" Elanor shrieked as a bit hit her own syrup-drowned pancake.  
  
Rosie sighed as she heard a knock at the door. She hurriedly strolled to the door, opening it.  
  
She gasped as she saw the face looking back at her. The hobbit standing on her doorstep had light brown hair and large light brown eyes. A sprinkle of freckles speckled his nose and cheeks and a large scar slanted across his jaw. He looked gaunter than he had been five years in 1419. She felt light headed and woozy as she remembered the horror of those dark days in the Shire. He had been a Shirriff and a great friend of the Chief.  
  
"Hello," he began, looking nervously around him. "Is this the residence of Miss Rosie Cotton?"  
  
She heard herself saying with a quaver in her voice. "Yes, but she's Mrs. Rose Gamgee now." She half-mindedly beckoned for him to come in. "I apologize for the mess," she said, gesturing to the dolls and other toys on the floor of the parlor. "But when one has two children, sometimes they find it hard to manage everything at once." Her voice was hard and cold, memories of injustice stirred in her heart.  
  
The hobbit smiled and nodded and took a seat as she beckoned to one of the parlor chairs. "Umm. . ." he said slowly. "My name is Mosco Burrows. I understand you lived around this area five years ago?"  
  
"Yes," she answered hurriedly, but didn't add, "And I remember you."  
  
"Well," he said apprehensively. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor."  
  
A/N: No reviews, no updates. TBC 


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